How We Got By
by Little Blossom
Summary: Kuroko/Aomine. You can break up life into a series of moments, and it's these moments that make us what we are. They lead us to where we find ourselves.


This story will be in three parts. This is part one. Enjoy.

How We Got By: Part 1

Aomine doesn't remember the first time he ever sees Kuroko, because no one ever does. But the first time he ever _notices_ Kuroko is, as far as first encounters go, completely underwhelming.

Aomine lounges on the bleachers, slumped backwards with his elbows propping himself up from the seats behind. He rests his shoeless and wrapped left foot on the seat in front; his ankle is out of commission due to an overly jealous sempai. His eyes drift towards the third string players. They're taking turns shooting baskets, five balls each, and then it's back to the end of the line.

Rinse and repeat.

A twerp of a kid who still looks to be in elementary school steps up. His arms are reedy with his skin too pale, like a ghost ready to vanish should you ever reach out to touch. Aomine takes in his disturbingly blank expression, smooth and glassy like a pool of water, crystal clear like the blue of his eyes, but too deep to see anything other than the surface.

_Nice form_, the thought crosses his mind when the boy first extends his arm to release the ball, piano hands posed like a dancers.

Aomine's surprised to watch it fall short and miss.

All five shots miss.

Aomine's brows rise in surprise when not even a flicker of disappointment cross the kids features. Hey whatever. Some people just aren't made for basketball, but if you don't even have an appreciation for the game then there's no place for you on the court.

The nameless boy soon slips out of his memory, forgotten all too soon, until two months later.

* * *

><p>"What? Where's your ego now? You think you can measure up to us now that you're finally where you belong?" Kato-sempai, reserve player of the basketball team, scoffs with a group of seniors horseshoeing around him like a mini hostile fortress.<p>

Aomine grits his teeth into a cocky grin, the one meant to infuriate others. "I can thrash you good sempai any day, with or without the first year players," Aomine says. His attacked ego fills him until he's bloated and delirious with pride and thoughts of, _You'll never keep me down._

Kato grins like a wolf before its meal, all teeth and a thirst for blood. "You asked for it hotshot." He whips around. "Hey, you there! Yeah, you," he shouts to a small cluster of lingering first years edging steadily towards the door. "Get over here. This honourable sempai is gonna let you lot play with the big boys."

The first years glance nervously back and forth at one other. They make their way over hesitantly, feet dragging and ready to bolt at a moment's notice. Aomine takes this time to eye them over. He grimaces inwardly. They're too bright eyed and round faced; unsculpted bodies and hands too soft to have possibly properly handled a ball enough.

"You guys get to play with this hotshot over here." Kato gestures towards Aomine with a careless wave of his hand. He looks them over, eyes darting from head to head. A frown forms before suddenly twisting into a dark grin. "Only three of you, huh? With hotshot that's four. Such a shame. Guess you're gonna play one man short, aren't –"

"No, I'm here," a voice says, impossibly, in front of them all. "That makes five."

Aomine and everyone else stare dumbfounded at the new arrival.

_It's that ghost like third string kid,_ Aomine vaguely remembers.

Kato composes himself with a stuttered, "I-if you're go-gonna play then s-say so at the beginning. It causes your sempai unnecessary problems otherwise. Got that?"

"Sorry," the boy says without sounding sorry at all.

Aomine smirks, heart thrumming at the challenge before him. "Alright then my good sempai, let's get this party started. My bodies itching to show you what it can do."

"We'll see about that," Kato says.

Aomine gathers the other first years around him. "Sorry about all this. But don't worry, we got this." Seeing their unsure eyes he slaps one of them good naturedly on the back, his grin showing lazy confidence. "It's just a game. As long as you have fun playing and you play your best things will be fine. Ease up man."

Despite Aomine's words, the game doesn't go well. Kato and the other seniors are taller than him and guard him insistently three to one. Aomine tries to cheer up his teammates even when they fumble the ball or miss a pass.

By half time the score is sixty-two to twenty-eight.

"The game's still not over," Aomine tells them as they huddle at half time break. He's frustrated but he knows this isn't their fault. They're still new and he wants them to enjoy the game since he got them stuck in this situation in the first place.

"I-I'm sorry. I know we aren't that good ..." says Nakamura, one of the first years, eyes downcast and face flushed in embarrassment.

"Don't sweat it. As long as you're trying and having fun that's all I can ask for. I just wish I could get the ball, but I guess it's too hard on you guys to pass to me when they're covering me like that." He sighs, running a tanned hand through his sweaty locks. "I just want them to stop looking down on first years like that, you know? Age shouldn't matter when it comes to basketball."

"You just want the ball?" a voice asks.

Aomine blinks. It's that ghost kid again. He forgot about him, again, somehow. Now that he thinks about it, that guy's been having the hardest time on the court. Aomine doesn't think he's made a single play.

Ghost boy looks as blank faced as ever. "You just want the ball?" he repeats.

"Uhh," Aomine says, unsure of where this is going. "Yeah?"

Ghost boy nods to himself. "Okay."

_That was weird,_ Aomine thinks. He takes a deep breath before stepping back onto the court.

Three minutes into the third quarter and everyone is wondering what the fuck is going on.

Aomine doesn't know what clicked in ghost boy's head, but Aomine's now receiving the ball play after play. The sempai try to get someone to cover ghost boy, but he slips through their guard every time, like water slipping through your fingers.

By the end of the third quarter the team of first years are just shy a few points of the seniors.

By the end of the fourth quarter, the end of the game, the team of first years win by a margin of twenty-five points.

Kato sneers, his face ugly and distorted with rage. He kicks and knocks over the bin of basketballs, and leaves with a loud slam through the doors.

Everyone but ghost boy starts to head out, quick to leave in case Kato rebounds back for another violent round. Aomine stays rooted to his spot, carefully watching as ghost boy bends down to start picking up the scattered balls. Aomine's afraid that if he does as little as blinks the other will fade away, back into the folds of nothing.

Aomine observes as ghost boy methodically places the balls back into the bin with care; snow white fingers and ice blue eyes linger on the fiery orange of every ball.

Aomine makes a decision.

"Hey, what's your name?" Aomine asks, moving closer and bending down to help.

"Me?"

Aomine chuckles. "No one else here. Unless there's more invisible people like you floating around."

"But I'm third string. And I'm not very good." He fiddles with the ball in his hands, face still oddly blank.

Aomine raises a brow. "Not good? You were making passes like a pro. I really owe you one for today."

Ghost boy looks down at the ground, suddenly looking smaller than he already is. "But that's all I can do ... no matter how much I practice."

"You play a lot?"

"I'm here every day until 8 PM."

"No way! I've never seen you once."

"Ah, well. I'm usually in the forth gym. No one seems to go there."

Aomine vaguely remember Satsuki saying something about ghosts haunting the forth gym. He laughs, realizing he's found the ghost. "I'll be sure to come practice with you then. With passing skills like yours we'd make an awesome team."

"You'd want to play with me?"

Looking into this boy's clear blue eyes, Aomine thinks this might be the first time he's properly seen him. His face might be blank but his eyes show a passion and love for basketball that matches his own. "I'd be pretty dumb not to want to play with you."

Ghost boy gives a ghost of a smile, and Aomine can't keep the stupid accomplished grin off his face.

"So, what's your name? Unless you want me to call you something like ghost boy forever."

"Kuroko Tetsuya," he says.

"Well then Kuroko Tetsuya, I'm Aomine Daiki."

Something in Tetsu's face softens. "I know."

* * *

><p>Aomine leisurely walks towards the school gate with a lazy swag to his step, his school bag carelessly swung over one shoulder. He covers his yawn with his free hand before shoving it into his pocket. In the bustle of his fellow middle schooler's trying to leave for the day, Aomine doesn't hear someone calling him until they're a few meters behind him.<p>

"Aomine-kun! You've got to help me!"

Momoi almost trips over herself in her effort to scramble across the courtyard. She snatches Aomine's larger hand into her own and looks up at him with wide imploring eyes.

"Sa-Satsuki? What's wrong with you?" Shifting awkwardly and away, Aomine doesn't know what to make of her dewy eyes and flushed face.

Momoi sighs, all wistful and like she's been spirited away into a romantic dream. That's when Aomine really starts to panic, his mind muddling all over.

"I'm growing up Aomine-kun," Momoi says, ignoring her childhood friend's increasingly distressed state, "but don't worry. I won't leave you behind. I know you're useless without me. I just want you to know that there's another man in my life now. I just need you to help me find him."

The haze of fog in Aomine's head starts to clear as he slowly digests her words. Only what remains isn't very fruitful. If anything, it's even more confusing and impossible to approach. "I need to help you find who?"

Momoi perks up immediately, and Aomine feels he's just gotten the death sentence. "So you'll help me? You're the best Aomine-kun."

"Wait! What? Why do I have to?"

"You mean you won't help me?" She sniffs, looking absolutely crushed.

"Don't make that face! Arg! I'll help you, I'll help you. What do you want me to do?"

Momoi composes herself in an instant; an all business attitude with a crazy gleam in her eyes. "I met my soul mate. Help me find him. He's on the basketball team, but I've never seen him before."

"Your s-soul mate?"

"He's so perfect." Momoi swoons with her hands cupping her heated cheeks. "He's so kind, dreamy, and mysterious. Before disappearing into the night he gave me," she pauses to breathe out another rose coloured sigh, "he gave me ice cream," she squeals.

"Huh?" Aomine's so taken aback that he can feel the once working cogs in his head crumble to dust.

"Ice cream has never been so sweet. I'll treasure the memory always. But! Here's where you come in. He's definitely on the basketball team. I don't know how I could've missed him. But you have to help me find him."

"Now?" Aomine is incredulous.

Momoi nods. "It's your one day off from basketball practice. Now, I've gotten the list of everyone on the basketball team. So that helps cut down on search time. Unfortunately, there are over one hundred members. I've got a plan I want to go over with you today so we can start the search tomorrow. So I was thinking we could go to-"

"Sorry Satsuki. I have plans already today." Aomine decides not to mention that spending time chasing after some boy is not appealing in the least. "I'm gonna play some street ball with Tetsu. We're working on something."

"Tetsu?" Momoi blinks. "Who's that?"

"He's a third string player I've been practicing with." Aomine flashes a grin. "Within two weeks I'm gonna surprise the others. He'll make regular for sure." Mouth twisting down into a frown, Aomine adds, "Now where is Tetsu? I'm supposed to meet him here at the gates."

"I'm right here Aomine-kun," Tetsu says, suddenly hovering by Aomine's shoulder.

Aomine jumps. "Holy shit Tetsu! You've gotta stop doing that. Make some noise or something."

"My apologies," he says (it's what he always says), but Aomine knows Tetsu secretly enjoys scaring the living daylights out of him.

Kuroko looks curiously at Momoi.

"Oh yeah!" Aomine snaps his fingers. "Tetsu, this is Momoi Satsuki. Satsuki, this is Kuroko Tetsuya.

A choking sound comes from Momoi's direction. Aomine's head swivels her way to find her face flushed a deep red. Momoi goes unnaturally silent as she gazes at Kuroko like he's glowing in the holy light of professional basketball or something.

Aomine watches Momoi drink in Kuroko's appearance with utter joy.

"I found you!" Momoi exclaims, pointing a finger at Kuroko.

Kuroko blinks. "Huh?"

* * *

><p>Kuroko's transition to the regulars goes smoother than Aomine would've thought. All it took was one surprised look from Akashi upon first realizing that yes, Kuroko's been standing right there all along, he has magical invisibility powers, and that was that.<p>

"You can't be serious," Midorima says when he first looks Kuroko over, wrapped left hand pushing up his glasses. Aomine doesn't know how Midorima can spout such things when he looks ridiculous with his daily lucky item, a sombrero, on his head.

"Whatever Aka-chin says is what goes." Murasakibara crudely grins around a lollipop before crunching down on it. His sleepy eyes gleam with amusement. "Ne, Aka-chin?"

"I'm dead serious," Akashi says, reaching up to pat Murasakibara, like a good pet, on the shoulder. "Tetsu-kun here has a very _special_ ability. The first I've seen. Daiki-kun, you're in charge of him. Hmm, but with how Daiki-kun is maybe Tetsuya-kun should be the one in charge of him instead." He flashes a sharp edged smile. "Or maybe I'll just have to look after the both of you."

"Hey!" Aomine shouts indignant.

"We can look after ourselves," Kuroko tells him in way that says there will be no more discussion on the matter.

"But you're partnership is very important Tetsu-kun." Akashi steps closer to the two of them wearing an alarming smile, his presence a breath away and noticeable like a blade scraping the throat.

It's the most uncomfortable Aomine's ever seen Kuroko.

"You'll be his shadow," Akashi tells Kuroko. "And you," he looks at Aomine, his eyes ablaze, "will be his light. I expect you two to work well together," he says in the tone of a playful threat, only their nerves scream that there isn't anything playful about it. Akashi takes a few steps back, smile becoming unassuming and harmless, like he hadn't just chilled them to their bone marrow two seconds ago. "Now Tetsuya-kun, go introduce yourself to the other first string players."

"Ah," Kuroko agrees quickly. Moving far, far away before Aomine can say anything.

"This puts pressure on you, Daiki-kun," Akashi says once Kuroko's out of earshot.

"Hmm? Why?" he asks, brows drawing together in confusion.

"A shadow is its strongest the brighter the light. The stronger you shine, the stronger your shadow will be."

Aomine glances away and towards where Kuroko now stands, facing the rest of the first string players with that impassive face of his. They look back at Kuroko with tactless doubt, but lack the nerve to go against Akashi. His resolve hardens. "Then I guess I'm going to have to shine so bright that even you'll pale in comparison."

Akashi laughs, unrestrained and almost half mad. "Very good Daiki-kun. I expect nothing less from you."

* * *

><p>The sun is too bright. Aomine shuts his eyes, lying on his back in the middle of a street basketball court. He can feel the sweat dripping down his face, from his forehead, nose, and chin, running over his cheeks like gentle fingers.<p>

His muscles burn in that good satisfying way that only comes from a good workout. Lifting up the hem of his t-shirt to his forehead, he wipes the sweat off his face. He can't find the energy to properly put his shirt back down, fingers letting go of the fabric as his hand flops beside his head. He feels the mild breeze whisper along his exposed midriff.

Aomine doesn't hear any footsteps. He's only alerted of another presence when the bright red from behind his closed eyelids fades to black. Opening his eyes he sees Tetsu's face, his body blotting out the sunlight like a solar eclipse. Aomine sighs, enjoying the relief from the sun, bathing in Kuroko's dark and stretching shadow.

"I bought us ice cream," Kuroko says, holding up a plastic bag for him to see.

"My hero." Aomine grins. He drags himself into a sitting position. He accepts the bag, his warm fingers brushing Kuroko's cooler ones in the process.

"You've worked hard." Kuroko's already started on his ice cream bar, vanilla, as he comes to sit on the heated cement beside him.

"If I don't work hard I'd be letting you down. I'm your amazing blaze of light, after all."

Kuroko pauses in his eating, a tiny smile forming on his ice cream smeared lips. "You're weird."

"Ouch, Tetsu."

"But I like you this way."

Aomine happily wrestles his chocolate ice cream bar free of its wrapper. Kuroko's strength might depend on how bright he shines, but it's the shadow that proves he exists in the material world, living and breathing and making a_ tangible_ impact. He makes Aomine feel so human, caught between the immortality of youth and the mortality of something else, something greater.

The ice cream floods his mouth with delicious cold, cooling his body and clearing his mind from its heated haze. "I guess I like you the way you are, too."

* * *

><p>"Let me see it," Aomine demands. His voice echoes off the walls of the locker room, otherwise perfectly silent at this time of night. No one practices as late and as long as they do. No one else loves basketball more. And that love, Aomine realizes with a feeling akin to betrayal, is what gave birth to the current dilemma.<p>

"It's nothing Aomine-kun." Kuroko shrugs, stepping to move past Aomine.

Aomine moves with him, stopping him in his tracks before he can even take two steps. His larger and darker body towers vividly over Kuroko's thin and ghostly one. "Let me see it," he repeats, and there's no room for argument as he brings his palms down on Kuroko's shoulders, fingers clenching in to lock him in place.

"Aomine-kun is quite the mother hen." Kuroko stares at him with eyes like frosted glass, measuring something Aomine doesn't know, but Aomine knows enough to not waver.

"Tetsu," is all he says. And Kuroko knows he won't ask again.

Kuroko lets out a sound Aomine assumes is annoyance, and holds out his right hand for Aomine to see.

Anger and disappointment settle low in Aomine's stomach. Whether it's because of Kuroko who didn't say anything or whether it's because of himself –because he must've been _fucking blin_d to not have _fucking noticed_– he can't say.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"It didn't seem important. It's still not important. Can I have my hand back now?"

Aomine doesn't say anything. He doesn't trust himself to say anything. Instead, he steers Kuroko by the shoulders to the bench, forces him to sit, threatens him to stay put, and leaves to go find the first-aid kit.

Kuroko's sitting there complacently, if somewhat sullen, when he gets back. Aomine straddles the bench and sits, ice in one hand and first-aid kit in the other. Setting them down on the cheap wood of the bench, varnish wearing off from years of use, he takes Kuroko's hand gently in his own.

It's no longer pale. Kuroko's hand is a mess of swollen red, a mosaic of black, blue, purple, and yellow around the knuckles.

Aomine grits his teeth. "You should have said something."

"You would have stopped me." There's no remorse in Kuroko's voice.

Aomine snaps.

"Of course I would have stopped you! You god damn idiot! I know you want to perfect that accelerating pass, but not like this!" Aomine drops Kuroko's hand like it's poison. He's afraid to keep holding on while he clenches his fists until the knuckles strain white. Short bitten nails imprint crescents onto his palms.

"The semi-finals are next week. In order to guarantee victory I need to learn this by then. And I have. I can be of more use to you now." He nods with a satisfaction that sickens Aomine to the core.

"Don't say it like that!"

"Say it like what?"

"Like you're my personal basketball tool."

"I'm your shadow, Aomine-kun. My basketball exists to make yours the best it can be."

"But not like this," Aomine says. He lets out a long breath, forcing his rage to settle, and takes Kuroko's hand in his once more. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. I should've realised that the way you hit the ball in that pass would do this. I know you're a basketball idiot, too. You won't quit when it comes to basketball, even if it kills you."

Kuroko becomes more unreadable than normal, his expression a perfect block of uncarved marble.

Aomine sighs, running his free through his hair. _This isn't getting us anywhere_, he thinks, and then starts the task of applying ice to Kuroko's hand.

The silence is awkward and terrible, but he doesn't trust himself not to say anything stupid. Clenching his jaw and keeping it shut, Aomine focuses all his attention on Kuroko's injury. His tongue holds restlessly behind its prison of teeth. He's all too aware that Kuroko can keep any stretch of silence going on like a mute on a mission.

Wind passing through the trees outside whisper into the locker room. The rustle of fabric sounds too clearly when Aomine shifts to switch hands, the ice making his one hand uncomfortably numb. The silence speaks the loudest of all, though, all consuming and deafening.

Aomine studies all the curves and fine hairs of Kuroko's hand with a self imposed dedication. Pointedly ignoring Kuroko's face, he swallows the image of Kuroko's hand to distance himself from the silence. Aomine's now sure that he can pinpoint that hand among thousands.

"I'm sorry," Kuroko says at last. He breaks the silence of five minutes, but it feels like the breaking of time immemorial. The swelling has gone down, but Aomine still holds the ice to Kuroko's hand.

"Wha?" Aomine blinks slowly. The world catching up to him is dizzying; the warmth of the early fall air, the reek of sweat and deodorant, the sour taste left over from his anxiety, the sight of Kuroko looking at him with apologetic eyes.

The absence of silence. The sound of his voice.

"I should've taken into consideration your feelings," Kuroko says with a small wry smile, a chuckle breaking free. "I guess we're both idiots."

"Hey," Aomine laughs, and it feels so good, like dancing in a heavy downpour after a long lasting drought. It seems like the last time they laughed together was eons ago and not just hours ago, when Kuroko had scared the living daylights out of him, again, appearing out of nowhere. "Speak for yourself, idiot."

"I'm sorry," Kuroko says again, and then, "Thank you."

Aomine removes the ice and digs out some bandages. "And since we're both idiots, I guess we're just gonna have to keep looking out for each other."

"What happens if we're both being idiots at the same time?" He winces as Aomine tightens the bandage.

"Then I guess we fall together. But if I'm going to fall with anyone, it has to be you. I don't have to worry because you're strong. You're the type that will get up and keep on walking your own path, conviction unwavering, even if it hurts."

* * *

><p>It's the night after their first nationals when Aomine is walking back with Kuroko, gold medal swinging around their necks, his arm draped across Kuroko's shoulder like a different kind of trophy, that he feels that this is where he wants to be.<p>

When they arrive at the intersection where they always part ways, Aomine says, "Good job today Tetsu. It was a good game. We'll do this again next year, and the year after that, and then all throughout our high school years. Got that?"

Kuroko nods, quiet but telling smile blooming so beautifully that Aomine forgets to breathe. "Of course."

Aomine holds out a fist, an act of asking for a promise. "Your basketball works with mine the best."

Kuroko bumps his fist against Aomine's, their shadows nonexistent in the depth of the night, their two bodies made only visible from both moonlight and starlight.

Just two boys and a promise for the future. It's all Aomine can do not to grab the other's hand in his; fingers laced, and ask for a different sort of promise.

* * *

><p>Comments, criticism, saying hello are all very much appreciated. I warn you I am a slow writer, so I have no idea when part 2 will be completed. If you even want part 2?<p> 


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